Admitted
by Ralinde
Summary: When the famous Quidditch player Rolanda Hooch is admitted in the Hogwarts hospital wing for a concussion, Poppy Pomfrey finds that her symptoms indicate a different problem. While she tries to help her overcome her health issues, there is something sparking between them that either witch tries to ignore.
1. Chapter 1 - Poppy

A/N: Written for the Sapphic Season Competition on HPFC. Trigger warning: contains drugs (potion) rehabilitation and withdrawal symptoms.

* * *

_Dear Juniper,_

_I'm writing to you because I'd like your advice on one of my charges. She came into my ward yesterday with a concussion after taking a Bludger to the head. Naturally, I gave her some Wideye Potion and kept her in for the night for observation. _

_She hasn't slept since, and it has been over twenty-four hours now. I worried that I might have accidentally overdosed her, but I've only given her a teaspoonful. Could it be an unknown side effect? I couldn't find any such reaction in the books. Is it possible that she is just reacting too strongly to the potion? If so, how long will it take for the effects to wear off? Can I safely administer some Sleeping Draught? She needs her sleep to recover._

_I do hope you can advise me on the matter. _

_Sincerely, Poppy_

* * *

Poppy glanced at the ward where the patient in question was currently staying. As an afterthought, she added: _PS, she also has a slight tremor in her right hand._

She addressed the letter to _Juniper Samuels, St Mungo's Hospital, London _and tied a ribbon around it.

"There you go," she said as she presented it to one of the school owls. "Please be swift."

The owl gave her an indignant stare, hooted, and then took off. Poppy looked after it until it disappeared on the horizon. She hoped her former mentor would know what to do.

The reply came a couple of hours later.

* * *

_Dear Poppy, _

_I don't think I've ever heard of such a side effect or such a strong reaction to Wideye Potion, but it is of course possible that it is just that. I would advise strongly against the use of Sleeping Draught or any other sleep inducing concoction until you know why she can't sleep. You'd best keep her under observation for a while, even if she does sleep tonight. The tremor worries me; better keep an eye on that. Please let me know if there is any new development._

_Sincerely, Juniper_

* * *

"Ha, she's not going to like that," Poppy murmured.

She went over to the little room at the end of the ward. It was normally used for students with contagious diseases, but in this case she'd figured that her charge would like a bit of privacy, away from the prying eyes of admirers.

"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch," she said briskly. "How are we feeling?"

"Not much different from last time you checked, Madam Pomfrey. So, are you here to discharge me? I do have better things to do than sit in a shoebox of a room all day, you know. "

Poppy shook her head.

"I'm afraid not. You'll have to stay in a bit longer."

"Oh come on!" Madam Hooch exclaimed. "It's only a concussion! I've experienced worst in my career."

"I'm sure you have," Poppy replied drily, "but as a Healer, I've seen concussions before and this is not an ordinary concussion. You're showing some symptoms that as of yet are unexplainable. And I'm not going to discharge you until I'm sure you're okay."

The woman glared.

"Fine, I'll stay for another night," she relented. ""but I'm out of here on Friday, I have an important match coming up this weekend."

"We'll see about that when we get to Friday. For now, you should focus on your recovery first."

* * *

_Dear Juniper, _

_We're about to enter into the third night. I'm worried. Today, my patient kept dropping to sleep at odd moments, in the middle of a conversation or when getting dressed for example. She'd sleep for half an hour maximum, during which it was impossible to wake her up. The tremor that at first was only present in her right hand has spread to her left side as well. She's agitated and skittish. It could be due to lack of sleep from the past days, but somehow I feel there's more to it. What could possible be wrong with her?"_

_Sincerely, Poppy_

* * *

_Dear Poppy, _

_I share your worries. I've been asking around and Mukhtar suggested that maybe your patient took another potion or medicine recently, which either clashes with the Wideye Potion or reinforces it. I'm sure you've checked that already, but I'm mentioning it just in case. If neither of these apply, then I suggest you transfer her to St Mungo's so we can further investigate her symptoms. _

_Sincerely, Juniper_

* * *

Poppy rechecked the questionnaire that her patient had filled in after regaining consciousness now almost three days ago. She had checked the box 'no' for the question about medicine use. But of course it couldn't hurt to verify this again.

She went back to the ward, just in time to see her charge leaving her room.

"Madam Hooch!" she called out.

Reluctantly, the woman slowed down. "Look, I'm leaving now. I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey. I've had enough and my team needs me Saturday. If I'm to play I'll need to train tomorrow." Her eyes darted to and fro the door of the ward and she fumbled with her hands.

"But you're in no condition to fly!" Poppy exclaimed. "You fall asleep mid-activity, imagine what would happen if you're on a broom…"

"There's nothing wrong with me! I keep telling you that for the past three days! You can't keep me here any longer. Besides, I can take some Invigorating Draught before the match. I'll be fine. Why were you coming in anyway? It's the middle of the afternoon. You usually only come in much later."

Madam Hooch eyed Poppy, suddenly suspicious. "Have you been tempering with my drinks or my food? You are in lieu with the Arrows, aren't you, to prevent me from playing Saturday. I knew they were low, but I never figured they would sink _this_ low. Unbelievable." She shook her head and made to leave again.

Poppy was momentarily at a loss for words. _Such a ridiculous accusation! _Madam Hooch was acting really peculiar today. It was almost as if… Something clicked. _Of course, _she thought. Agitation, tremors, tension, suspicion… It all fitted. _How did I not see that before?_

As nonchalantly as she could she asked: "So, do you often take Invigoration Draught before a match, Madam Hooch?"

"Sometimes." The Quidditch player shrugged. "No big deal. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

"Prove it."

"Prove what?"

"That you're doing well. Prove to me that you're stable on a broom and I promise I'll let you leave first thing in the morning."

"Fine, hand me a broom."

Poppy shook her head. "No, not in here. You'll need to go a bit of a distance for a proper evaluation. I'll see you at the Quidditch pitch at eight."

-0-0-

That night both witches met at the Quidditch pitch.

"How long does it normally take you to fly once round the pitch?" Poppy asked.

"I don't know. In training we often do rounds, but then of course we're in professional pitches, this one is smaller."

"Can you make an estimation?"

Madam Hooch eyed the pitch. "I reckon I can go round in one and a half minute. Have you got a broom for me?" She was obviously keen to prove herself fit to be discharged.

Poppy showed her the broom closet. "Help yourself."

Madam Hooch took out a broom and got on.

"If you make it round the pitch within two minutes, without falling off, you're free to go tomorrow." Poppy felt that allowing her an extra thirty seconds was only fair given the state she was in. If she was correct, she would not even be able to complete it with the extra time.

"You're wasting your time. But fine, if this is what it takes for you to believe I'm well…"

Poppy took out a pocket watch. "Ready? Off!"

Madam Hooch took off and for the first quarter round everything went smoothly. Then she started shaking and plummeted.

"Arresto momentum" Poppy said, just in time to stop her charge from falling head first on the ground. _As I feared…_

She walked over to help her up.

"This broom is faulty," Madam Hooch seethed.

Poppy decided not to point out the obvious. She'd have to come to her own conclusion.

"Fine, pick another broom then."

This time, Madam Hooch took a bit more time examining the brooms, and eventually chose a steady Comet. She made it to a third of a round before falling asleep and once again falling off her broom.

Arresto Momentum once again saved Madam Hooch from crashing into the ground.

She tried three other brooms, but never made it past the first half round.

"I appear to be out of form tonight," Madam Hooch said. "But a bad rehearsal usually means the real thing will go smoothly, is what we say, Madam Pomfrey. I'll be fine tomorrow."

Poppy shook her head._ This will take more convincing then I thought. _

"You'll take Invigorating Draught and be top fit?"

"Something like that yeah, like I already told you this afternoon.

Poppy was getting a bit fed up with it and tried a different approach.

"How about you start being honest with me now?" she said.

"What do you mean?"

"You've taken Invigoration Draught a lot more often than just occasionally, haven't you?"

"I…. Why would you think that?"

Poppy waited without answering, but just gave her the look she usually reserved for students who lied about the cause of their injuries.

She hadn't thought it would work on adults as well, but the witch in front of her sighed.

"Fine. I've taken it more often lately. Not that it's any of your business, of course."

"How often?" Poppy asked, ignoring the last part of the reply.

"Oh, I don't know. Biweekly for a month or two, I think."

Somehow Poppy doubted that, so she remained silent.

"Alright, every week for three to four months. Happy now? Now, can we go get the discharge papers?"

Poppy still said nothing. _How much did she use, really?_

"Why aren't you saying anything? What do you want?" Madam Hooch said frustrated.

"I want you to tell me the truth. The only way to overcome your problem is by admitting you have it in the first place."

"And who exactly do you think you are, for you to judge me? You only met me a couple of days ago. And yet you think you can just accuse me of being addicted? That's called slander, that is."

Poppy shrugged. "Fine, then don't tell me. It's a shame though, you still had a great career ahead of you."

She walked away. She hoped her comment would pique the other woman, and wasn't disappointed. It took only thirty seconds, before Madam Hooch came after her: "Wait!"

Poppy stopped and turned to meet her.

"What do you mean, I still _had_ a great career ahead of me? I'm one of the best Beaters in the competition."

"For now," Poppy said. "But your body will be craving the Draught more often. You'll be needing more of it, larger quantities in a continuously shorter amount of time. You're already up to once a week, if what you say is true. Before you know it, you'll be using it before trainings as well as matches and from there, you'll get to a daily usage. Your body, exhausted from a lack of sleep, will start shutting down non-vital systems. You'll not be able to concentrate properly anymore. Your sight will become blurry, your speech slurry. You'll get palpitations. You'll lose control over your muscles, they'll either become weak or you'll get spasms. You'll start hallucinating. Every time you take another Draught, your body gets another rush of energy, when all it really needs is rest. How long do you think you can keep your addiction a secret? It won't take long before your team Healer realises the truth. They'll kick you of the team, the papers will tell their own version of your downfall, and you know they'll expand on the truth in their attempt to dig up dirt on _the greatest Beater the Wasps ever had_. Their articles will render it impossible for you to ever make a comeback, if you manage to somehow overcome your addiction."

Poppy stopped talking. She realised the woman in front of her had gone very pale. _Perhaps this is a bit too much in one go. _

"I'm sorry. You're right. It really is none of my business."

"Is… is that really what lies ahead of me?" Madam Hooch asked after a short moment of silence.

Poppy nodded. "Of course, everyone reacts differently, some are more immune to its symptoms than others, but eventually you'll wear out the reserves of your body."

Again there was a moment of silence.

"Madam Pomfrey, are…," Madam Hooch cleared her throat. "Are tremors a symptom as well?" she asked at last "And falling asleep at random moments?"

"No. I'd say those are withdrawal symptoms."

"Oh."

She suddenly seemed very small, fragile even, and Poppy felt sorry for her.

"Come" she said gently. "It's getting cold. Let's get inside and I'll make you some herbal tea. If you like, we can talk some more then."

Madam Hooch let herself be convinced and the two women walked back to the castle. Several times Poppy glanced sideways to her companion. She could see that she was processing everything she had heard, and Poppy could only hope that she would make the right decision. If Madam Hooch decided to return to the Wanderers tomorrow, there was really nothing more Poppy could do for her.

-0-0-

Back in the hospital wing and from after a steaming mug of chamomile tea, Madam Hooch seemed to have reached a conclusion. "I … _might _… have a more serious problem than I thought," she admitted reluctantly. "But I don't have a clue as to how to fix it."

"I could help you with that," Poppy offered. "I've worked in St Mungo's before coming to Hogwarts, and I still know a lot of the Healers there. I'm sure you'll be in good hands in the Dilys Derwent Ward."

"I can't go to St Mungo's!" Madam Hooch exclaimed, panic on her face. "If only one person blabs that I'm there, journalists will be swarming the place to see me at my worst and spread lies about me."

"The Healers at St Mungo's are professionals, they wouldn't do that."

"Perhaps not, but there is a lot of medical staff and there is always a possibility that one of them sells my story to the highest bidder. And of course other patients and visitors can't be forced to keep quiet."

"Hmm, I get your point," Poppy contemplated. But you need help, she thought. _You can't do this alone, it'll be difficult enough to come clean with help, but without it, it's doomed to fail. _

"Can't I stay here?"

The question surprised Poppy.

"Why, because teenagers are so much better at keeping their mouths shut when a famous Quidditch player is in their school hospital wing for an extended amount of time?" Poppy tilted her head, a smile on her lips.

Madam Hooch let out a shaky laugh. "Of course not," she said. "But at least they won't be swarming the hospital wing with cameras and notebooks."

This time Poppy laughed. "I think you underestimate your own popularity. If you'd stay here, I foresee a sudden increase in sick students, all hoping to get a glimpse of you, or an autograph. And there's no guarantee no one will talk to journalists."

She shut her mouth, realising she wasn't exactly helping.

"I'm not sure I can give you the help you need," she tried, kindly. "At St Mungo's there are specialists. I really think you'd be better of with them."

One look at the other witch' face told her she needed to leave the subject be. "Okay, I'm sorry. Not St Mungo's then."

"I want to stay here," Madam Hooch repeated, stubbornly. "It's safe here. Any journalist who'd want to sneak in, would have to go through Albus' security system first. Do you know how many times my identity was checked before I was allowed in? And _I_ had an invite. Even if one would manage to succeed, they'd have to get past you. I've seen you handle unwelcome visitors for your patients. I feel that I can trust you. You could have easily let me get back to my training and then tip of the _Daily Prophet_ about my… problem. But you didn't. You gave me a chance."

Poppy was surprised by this sudden outburst of sympathy, when all they'd done in the past days was clash. She felt flattered that Madam Hooch thought it was tougher to get past her than past Albus' security.

"I'll speak to Albus tomorrow," she said. The outline of an idea was slowly starting to take shape in her mind, but she needed to think it through. "Maybe he'll know what to do."

"I don't want him to know." The panic of before resurfaced. "You can't tell him."

"I'll have to," Poppy replied. "If you're serious about wanting to stay here and getting my help, Albus will need to know of your stay. That is not open for debate. He is the Headmaster, so if you're staying, it'll be with his permission."

She waited. She wanted to help the woman in front of her, but Albus really ought to know about it.

"Fine then, if you insist," Madam Hooch murmured eventually. "What do I do now?"

"I think you should lay down now," Poppy suggested. "I don't know if you'll sleep more than half an hour at a time, but at least you'll be resting. As I said, rest is all your body needs right now."

Madam Hooch remained seated. "Coach Wellington will be furious if I don't show up tomorrow."

"Just write him that the concussion is more serious than you initially thought and that you have to stay a bit longer."

The Quidditch player stared at her tea mug. "Yeah, about that…

"Didn't you inform him? You didn't inform him," Poppy concluded. She groaned. "Why not?"

"Until a few hours ago, I was under the impression that I would play tomorrow, so I didn't see the need. I'll write him now. Any advice? Do you think he'll believe the concussion story?"

"I've never met him, so I don't know what he's like," Poppy replied, while searching for some parchment and a quill. She didn't voice what was on her mind. That the coach would probably believe that she couldn't play tomorrow, but that he'd be expecting her back in a short time. If Madam Hooch were going to stay for treatment, they would need to come up with another story to explain her prolonged absence from the team.

-0-0-

The next morning, Poppy found herself in Albus' study. She had just explained to him in what condition her charge really was.

"And so I was thinking," she continued. "Couldn't she stay as Quidditch instructor for a while? The clinics she gave last week were very popular with the students, and I think that's something she can still explain to her team. They might buy that."

Albus thought about it. "It might work," he said. "Though I do see some technicalities that need to be solved first. What amount of time are we talking about?"

"I'm not sure. I've never treated a patient for addiction before, and even if I had, there's no telling how one particular person is going to react. I need to go to St Mungo's to see if I can pick up some books on the matter. But my initial guess would be that she would need another week of admittance in the ward under my vigilance. She really needs to give herself rest, that's the most important. After that, she'll need rehabilitation. I have no idea how long this would take. It could be anywhere from three weeks to three months, depending on her level of willingness to alter her situation."

"That's quite a difference. What will I tell the staff? There are some teachers who won't be too happy if their Quidditch team is taken from under their wings."

"If you're referring to Minerva," as they both knew he was, "I've thought about that. You know how she's always complaining that Quidditch training ought to be standardised throughout the houses?"

"I seem to recall her uttering something of the like, yes," Albus muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"If Madam Hooch were to take up the trainings, we'd get just that. All houses the same training; and from a professional Quidditch player nonetheless. I'll admit, she probably just intended that the other Heads of Houses should follow her guidelines, and it's of course only temporary, but still…"

"Very well, you seem to have thought this through thoroughly. We'll need to find her lodgings after next week. She can't stay in the ward forever. Shall we say a month, to start with?"

Poppy nodded. "I think that would be fine. That's an amount of time we can still more or less explain under an injury, and if she needs more time, we'll say that she stays longer because she likes the teaching experience. Or something. We'll think of something if the situation arises. Thank you for this, Albus."

She hesitated, and then said. "I don't think it's fair to tell the staff the entire situation. We want Madam Hooch to feel safe here. It'll be hard enough for her to tackle her issues as they are, but it will be even harder if the entire staff knows she's having them. She has a right to privacy in the matter."

"Of course," Albus replied. "Oh, and Poppy?" he said as an afterthought. "If she's going to stay here longer, you might consider starting to call her Rolanda."

"I can't," Poppy said. "Not as long as she's my patient. Professional boundaries, you know? I wouldn't feel comfortable being on a first name basis with a patient."

Albus smiled. "There's still a lot of St Mungo in you," he remarked. "Not that that's a bad thing," he added upon seeing her face. "It just shows."

Poppy didn't know what to make of the comment and decided to let it go by.

Poppy turned towards the door. Then she turned back. "Albus, could I use your fireplace to go and pick up the books at St Mungo? It'll be much easier to look for the proper volumes myself instead of asking Juniper to send me items she thinks would be helpful."

"I take it you haven't told Juniper about the situation?"

"I did ask her advice in the matter. Though I never mentioned her name. As far as Juniper thinks, we're corresponding about a student."

"Very well. Use the fire place, I'll leave you to it. I should go and inform the staff that we're getting a temporary addition to our team."

Poppy thanked him again and took a handful of Floo powder from the bowl and stepped into the fireplace.

"Rolanda is in excellent care with you," Albus said before leaving his room, "She really couldn't be in better hands."

She called out 'St Mungo's' and let the Floo Powder fall. As the familiar tugging feeling came, she thought: _I don't know if I really am her best option,_ _but I'll make sure to not to betray her trust._


	2. Chapter 2 - Rolanda

Rolanda had difficulties adapting. She had only agreed on the Quidditch Clinics because Albus was an old friend, but she had never intended to stay at Hogwarts for longer than a week. She missed the routine of training daily. The long days of nothingness in the ward made her feel tense en jittery. She knew she needed rest, needed sleep, but she just couldn't. Two-and-a-half hours, that was the maximum she made in one go at the moment. She could do with some Invigoration Draught, if only a sip, but Madam Pomfrey had carefully stowed away her supply. She had even, to Rolanda's annoyance, deemed it necessary to put the ingredients that would have allowed her to brew her own potion in a locked cabinet. Un unnecessary precaution: The potion took close to three hours to brew, and she was barely left alone for longer than an hour.

She had however made a conscious decision not to go to St Mungo's. There, the days would be just as dull, if not duller. There, she would have been treated as Rolanda Hooch, the famous-Beater-gone astray. At St Mungo's there would always be a chance that someone couldn't resist the amount of money one of the less scrupulous members of the press was willing to pay in exchange for an exclusive story on her downfall. She had meant what she had said, the other day. She felt she could trust the matron of the Hogwarts' ward. Madam Pomfrey treated her like she would any other patient, with a certain disregard for decorum that Rolanda found both annoying and refreshing.

She wondered how her team had done in the match against the Arrows, and whether or not Coach Wellington believed her story. He hadn't replied to her letter. She couldn't decide if that was a good or a bad sign. But no one at Hogwarts seemed to read _Quidditch Weekly,_ at least no one currently in the hospital wing. She had checked their bedside tables when everyone – except her – was sleeping.

-0-0-

Two days after the match, Madam Pomfrey came in with a serious look on her face.

"You won't like what I'm going to tell you," she began straightforward.

"Good, no skipping around it, I like that," Rolanda remarked. "Tell me. Did the Wansps lose last weekend?"

"I wouldn't know about that," the younger woman replied. "Anyway, that's not what I meant. I've been doing some reading," she said and as to illustrate it she held up a small volume.

"Not much is know about your condition, but those that have written about it, describe a serious withdrawal symptom that occurs after ten to fourteen days. At some point in the upcoming days, you'll be getting hallucinations. They could last from an hour to an entire night, no one can tell for certain. They'll be quite forceful however, that much is sure. So, as of tonight, I'll lock the door that links your room to the ward."

"Why, because you're afraid I'm going to hurt your students?" Rolanda sneered, trying to hide the fact that this new information was worrying her. "And I thought you said I'd get hallucinations if I continued using the Draught, but now you're telling me I'll get them either way? Why did you not tell straight away? If I get hallucinations when I'm using it, and as well when I'm not, then what's the point in stopping altogether?"

"I never said I was an expert at this," Madam Pomfrey said softly. "I'm sorry if you feel you got wrong footed, I'm mostly learning along the way with the aid of what other Healers have described. If you wanted an expert, who maybe would have told you this on the very first day, you should have gone to St Mungo's as I suggested."

She took a breath and before Rolanda had a chance to retort, she said. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. You had your reasons for not going there, and I respect that. I would just ask of you that in return, you have confidence in me that I really am doing everything I can to help you get through this as smoothly as possible. I may not be treating you in the way the experts would, and I might make mistakes along the way, but together, I believe we can tackle this. But we need to trust each other."

Rolanda looked at the other woman, measuring her. She was oddly taken aback by the mention of mutual trust. She hadn't realised before that Madam Pomfrey was also taking a risk with treating her at Hogwarts. She knew enough about addicts – it was the first time she thought of herself as such – to know that her behaviour could have gotten unpredictable, violent even. And then this woman would be very vulnerable.

"You have my confidence," she said eventually. "And I hope I have yours as well."

"You do," Madam Pomfrey confirmed. "I wouldn't be treating you here if I didn't feel you were putting in your effort, of if I didn't trust you."

"As for locking the door, yes, I do need to think of the students' safety. But it's also for your own protection and privacy. Merlin knows what hallucinations you'll get or how you'll react to them, and any peculiar antics in the middle of he night are bound to have students contact the _Daily Prophet._"

"That's… actually very considerate of you," Rolanda admitted grudgingly. "Thank you."

"Of course, the door to my quarters remains unlocked at all times. I'll check on you regularly, but otherwise I'll be sleeping and you can just knock on my bedroom door. I sleep lightly."

Rolanda's respect for the matron grew. It would have been just as easy for her to let Rolanda handle her own mess. Especially since Rolanda knew she must not be the easiest patient in the ward. She felt she owed her an apology.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I know I'm not an easy person to work with." She let out a laugh. "Never have been, really. So forgive this grumpy old woman her manners. I never intended to doubt you or your methods."

"You're not old!" Madam Pomfrey protested.

"Oh, just grumpy then?"

"You're going through a difficult time."

Rolanda grinned, the heavy atmosphere of only moments ago was gone. "Ever so diplomatic. You'd make a great spokeswoman for the Wasps. 'We didn't lose, we just gave the other team the opportunity to showcase their new talent'."

"I'd be horrible at it. Honestly, I just know the difference between a Quaffle and a Bludger."

"Really?" Rolanda couldn't believe it. _How could anyone not know such basic details? _

"No, not really," Madam Pomfrey shook her head, amused. "I used to be an aficionada when I was still a student."

"What happened?"

"I dated someone on my House team for a while. It didn't end well." She shrugged. "I kinda lost interest after that."

"That's a shame," Rolanda said. She felt there was more to the story but she didn't pry. What right did she have, after all? They didn't know each other all that well. "You know what? Once this is over, and I'm fully recovered, I'll take you to a match," she promised. "A proper one. How about the England-Norway qualifier for the World Cup? That's in six weeks. No, no, I insist," she said when Madam Pomfrey wanted to object. "I want to repay you for your kindness. And if I can reignite your interest in Quidditch at the same time, that's just a bonus. Wait, I'll be recovered by then, won't I?" she added, suddenly doubtful.

"I have every reason to believe you will," Madam Pomfrey said. "And thank you, it would be nice to go to the match with you." She smiled; a warm, open smile that put a soft glow on her face. The sudden flutter in Rolanda's chest was surely just a coincidental withdrawal symptom.

"Well, I'll need to continue my rounds. I'll be back later."

"I'm not going anywhere," Rolanda said with a laugh.

-0-0-

She woke disorientated. She was hungry, and thirsty, and very, very groggy. She opened her eyes, but the brightness in the room made her head ache. She closed her eyes again.

"I see you're awake," a friendly voice somewhere near her feet said. The voice was vaguely familiar.

She tried to sit up but that only made her dizzy.

"Easy now," the voice instructed her. "Don't go too hasty. Take your time."

Rolanda tried to determine where she was whilst keeping her eyes closed. She was not at home, that much was sure. She also wasn't in some hotel, because no hotel she ever knew of posted room service _in the room_. Slowly, she regained figments of her memory, enough to recall where she was and why she was there. She tried speaking and succeeded on the third attempt. Her throat and lips were dry.

"Why do I feel so run over?" she whispered. "Why am I so hungry and thirsty?"

"That might be because you slept for about thirty hours," the voice replied. "Here, I brought you a glass of water. With a straw, so you don't have to get up just yet."

Rolanda eagerly drank from the proffered straw. That felt better.

The voice, she now remembered, belonged to the matron of the ward, Madam Pomfrey. _Silly actually to call her Madam, she's about half my age_, Rolanda thought.

"Would you like something to eat? Some toast perhaps?"

Rolanda nodded. "That would be nice."

"Good, I'll get you some. I'll be back in a blink."

When she had left the room, Rolanda tried once again to open her eyes, one eye at a time now. She blinked a couple of times. Once her eyes were fully adjusted to the light, she tried getting up. _First on your side, Rolanda,_ she cautioned herself. Finally she sat upright. She drank more of the water and she felt a bit better. Then the questions came. _However did I sleep thirty hours on end? _She was up to two-and-a-half, three hours of consecutive sleep last thing she remembered. _Did Madam Pomfrey give me a Sleeping Draught?_ As soon as the thought arose, she dismissed it. No, Madam Pomfrey had been very explicit about that from the start, Rolanda should not take Sleeping Draught. _Then what happened_? _And what on earth am I wearing?_ she thought as she realised she had an old-fashioned nightgown on.

Madam Pomfrey re-entered the room, carrying a tray. On it was a plate with hot toast, a small dish of fresh butter and a jar of honey. Next to the plate was a small porcelain vase with cornflowers. The smell of the food was mouth-watering and Rolanda decided that her questions could wait.

-0-0-

About half an hour later, Madam Pomfrey returned again. "So, do you feel a bit better?"

"Yes, I do actually," Rolanda replied. "Thanks. The combination of toast, butter and honey was just what I needed apparently. And the cornflowers were a nice touch. How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"They're my favourite."

"They are? I did not know that." Madam Pomfrey smiled. "They are my favourite as well. I love this hue, there are only so many blue flowers and this one is so bright and beautiful… They might be considered a weed by some but I disagree."

Rolanda nodded. "I know. There isn't enough appreciation for them."

She was pleasantly surprised to learn that they shared the same favourite flower.

"Could I ask you some questions?"

"Sure." Madam Pomfrey seated herself on the foot end of the bed. "You probably want to know what happened?"

Rolanda nodded. "How did I sleep for so many hours on end? And where did _this _come from?" she pointed at the nightgown.

Madam Pomfrey blushed. "The gown is one of mine, actually. What? I know they're not exactly modern, but they're comfortable and they are the most practical when I'm making rounds, especially in winter," she said defiantly.

Rolanda's disbelief surely showed on her face. She tried to picture the woman opposite her in this old fashioned gown, but failed. "O-kay," she said at last. "But that still doesn't explain why _I_'m wearing them."

"You don't remember anything?" Madam Pomfrey asked carefully.

Rolanda shook her head.

"Oh dear," Madam Pomfrey muttered.

"Oh Merlin, did I do something embarrassing?" Rolanda groaned. "Do I even want to know?"

"Do you remember I told you you'd get hallucinations?"

Rolanda nodded. "As if I'd forget."

"Well," Madam Pomfrey continued. "You woke from a short period of sleep around two am. I reckon you had slept about one-and-a-half hour, shorter than what you usually sleep in one go. You were … panicked. You run around, in your room and in my quarters, yelling that someone had hexed your clothes and could I not see that they were shrinking? You said they were strangling the life out of you, that you could feel them getting tighter and tighter and that you were afraid they'd break your bones and eventually suffocate you. You tried tearing them off, but you were unsuccessful. You then found a pair of first aid scissors and tried cutting your clothes up. I had to pry them from your hands to keep you from harming yourself."

Madam Pomfrey paused for a moment and Rolanda tried to picture it in her mind. She didn't like the sound of it.

"It sounds like I made a complete idiot of myself," she said.

"Don't say that!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "It's not your fault. Anyway, once I had taken the scissors away, you attacked me." She subconsciously touched her temple and Rolanda noticed she spotted a blue-ish mark that had been mostly concealed with make-up.

"Oh Merlin, I'm so terribly sorry," she said. She buried her face in her hands. "I'm so ashamed. Please, forgive me."

"I take it it's not your habit to hit the people who care for you," Madam Pomfrey replied and tilted her head a little.

"No of course not! I may be a Beater, but that's only my profession, not my nature!"

"I know. I know you weren't yourself at the moment. Apologies accepted, nonetheless."

"Why didn't you stop me?"

"I did," Madam Pomfrey said drily. "So if your shoulder is sore, that's my doing, I'm afraid. And you might have a bruise or two yourself."

"I feel awful," Rolanda confessed. "You don't deserve that after being so kind to me."

"It's okay. _We're_ okay," Madam Pomfrey emphasised. She touched Rolanda's arm. "Honestly, don't fret about it. It's all water under the bridge. I'm just glad you didn't have the scissors anymore."

"How can you joke about it?"

"I told you, it's really not an issue. Do you want to know me to continue?"

"I don't know," Rolanda groaned. She glanced between her fingers at the other woman. "Do I?"

"That's up to you. It's okay no to want to hear the rest of it. I could always tell you later, if you feel more up to it then."

Rolanda hesitated. On the one hand, she didn't know if she could handle more embarrassment. On the other hand, she thought it was necessary to know the truth. And the nightgown was still a mystery to her. In the end, curiosity won. "Tell me."

"After I had secured your hands around your back, you quieted down a bit. You were still panicking about your clothes suffocating you, so I helped you out of them, sure that that would make you feel better. It did, for a while, as did the hot cocoa I gave you. Then you suddenly jumped up, scratching your arms. You said ants were crawling under your skin. Apparently, the itching got worse and worse and you scratched until your arms were raw. I really didn't know what to do. Nothing I said or did helped."

Rolanda tried to picture it in her mind but failed. _I must have had it in really bad_, she thought.

Here Madam Pomfrey hesitated a moment. "You had goosebumps all over and your teeth clattered, but you didn't notice you were cold. When I told you, you refused to put your clothes back on. They were still hexed after all. So I… eventually cheated. I took out one of my nightgowns that I knew would keep you warm. I told you they were treated with a special anti-ant solution and that you needed to keep them on in order for the ants to disappear. And that it also a carried a protection within it's fibres that prevented it from hexes and curses. You believed me and let me help you put them on. You were a lot calmer after that. You curled up in my fauteuil like a kitten and dosed off. I knew then that the worst of your episode was over. I managed to convince you that your bed was the safest place to be in at the moment and helped you back to it."

She paused again. "I'm not proud of what I did: I lied to you when you were at your most vulnerable. But I didn't know what else to do and you were in a really bad state. I'm sorry," she ended softly.

This time it was Rolanda who touched Madam Pomfrey's arm. "I know. It's okay. _We're_ okay," she echoed the matron's words of earlier. _This woman really is extraordinary._

Madam Pomfrey smiled. Rolanda returned the smile.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for believing in me and for standing by my side. I don't know what I did to deserve someone who cares for me the way you do."

Madam Pomfrey blushed. "I'm glad that I can help you."

They sat in a companionable silence for a moment.

"I'll get your clothes and your own nightwear," Madam Pomfrey said eventually.

"You know what? I think I'll keep it," Rolanda replied. "You're right, it _is _comfortable."

"I have some goods news for you as well," Madam Pomfrey remembered. "Now that you've slept for so many consecutive hours, we can start the rehabilitation trajectory. Your body has rested enough. You'll notice that you no longer have a tremor in your hands."

"You're right!" Rolanda said, baffled. "I hadn't even realised it, but now that you mention it, they're not trembling anymore."

"That also means that you don't have to be confined to this room anymore. I've arranged with Albus that you can give Quidditch trainings for the time being. That can be your guise to explain your prolonged stay at Hogwarts. The students really liked the Clinics you gave, and we even convinced Minerva to concede the training of her House team to you. And between you and me, that's saying something. She's really fierce about them," Madam Pomfrey grinned.

"Oh, she doesn't know the real reason you're staying!" she hasted to add. "Only Albus does. And you and I of course. But we didn't inform the rest of the staff. As far as they know, you help out with the Quidditch training as long as your concussion prevents you from flying yourself, to 'stay in touch with the game'."

"You really seem to have thought about everything," Rolanda said. She was impressed. No one had ever gone through so much trouble for her, apart from her parents.

"How many trainings are we talking about exactly?"

"We were thinking you'd best start easy, one per house a week in the first week. So that's four trainings in the first week. We can see how you feel then and we can always extend from there."

It was a good perspective. Rolanda was happy that she was finally sort of starting to get better. The past two weeks had been really difficult. But she had liked giving the clinics as well. It would be nice to finally have something to occupy her again.

"I won't be called Professor," she warned Madam Pomfrey. "That doesn't suit me. And neither does Trainer. That reminds me too much of Coach Wellington." She realised as she said, that she still hadn't heard him, not even a query as to how she was faring. After two weeks, that had to be bad sign, she decided and her face clouded.

"So what do you want the students to call you then?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"I'll just stick to Madam Hooch, I think."

"I'll make sure the students know about that. I'll also ask Albus for the key to your quarters. If he did as promised, they will be aired and well cleaned by now. It wouldn't surprise me if he has arranged for woodblocks near the fire place, even though it's summer."

"I get my own lodgings?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Yes. That better fits your guise."

"That's quite a bit of confidence you put in me. How do you know I won't go brewing my own Invigorating Draught there?"

"I know you wouldn't. You've come so far already, you'll not go back to how you were before. And if you were, I'd be terribly disappointed at not being the judge of character I think I am. You got this, Madam Hooch. You said before you had confidence in me. Now, I want you to have confidence in yourself."

"But, will I have to do the rest of the trajectory on my own?" Rolanda asked, incredulous.

"Of course not," Madam Pomfrey replied. "I wouldn't let you down like that. No, we'll continue your treatment but it won't be as intense as it has been the past two weeks. And you're free to walk the castle grounds instead of having to stay in the ward the whole time. It will help you in your healing process. Your body needs to get used to doing stuff without the help of the Draught before you can get back on a broom."

They talked through some more technicalities.

-0-0-

Once Madam Pomfrey had left, Rolanda let herself fall back onto her pillow. She knew she was making considerable progress and that it was a really good sign that she would be allowed to leave the ward. _Why, then, did she feel so disappointed? _


	3. Chapter 3 - Poppy

The morning was bright and it promised to be a sunny day when Madam Hooch was going to give her first Quidditch training since her admission. Poppy made sure she arrived at the pitch early. She wanted to see how Madam Hooch would do, wanted to show her she believed in her, wanted to encourage her by her presence. She took a seat in the stands.

_It's been a long time since I've been here,_ she thought.

She waved when Madam Hooch came in in her Quidditch robes. Out here, on the pitch, she looked different. Her yellow-and-black outfit was tailored to fit her and Poppy thought she made a striking figure. She greeted the Gryffindor team with an authority that didn't stem from her status as a renowned Quidditch player. _It comes naturel to her,_ Poppy thought. _If you didn't know better, you'd say she had always been teaching. _

Her admiration for the woman grew. It took a truly strong person to face an addiction and overcome it, but Madam Hooch was exceeding expectations. Only the paleness of her face revealed that she had been admitted in the hospital wing just days ago. It was clear that, here, she was in her element. It was a pleasure to see her in action.

Poppy was startled by a hand on her shoulder. "Fancy seeing you here, Poppy."

She turned. "Hello Minerva. I didn't see you there," she stammered.

Minerva sat down beside her. "Obviously," she grinned.

Poppy raised an eyebrow.

"You were staring," Minerva elaborated.

"I wasn't staring!" Poppy protested. "I was just checking out the training."

"Really? I looks more like you're checking out the trainer, I'd say," Minerva said drily.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh come on, Poppy, when was the last time you attended a Quidditch match?" Minerva said amused. "And have you ever attended a training since you started working here?"

"She is my patient," Poppy said defiantly. "She's only just getting started after her concussion. It is my job to make sure she doesn't overdo herself."

"Uh-uh," Minerva replied meaningfully, but left it after that, for which Poppy was grateful.

The two witches watched as the training progressed. The first part was spent doing exercises and racing around the pitch. Then Madam Hooch had them flying in formation.

"She's good," Minerva reluctantly said after a while. "As much as I hate to admit it, she's actually doing a terrific job. Has she been teaching before?"

"Not that I know off."

"Then she's a natural. I'm glad to see my team is in good hands. It was a good idea of Albus to temporary employ her, don't you think?" she asked innocently.

"Hm-hm," Poppy hummed non-committingly. Something in the tone of Minerva's voice made her question how much she really knew – or suspected – about Madam Hooch' prolonged stay at Hogwarts, and about Poppy's role in the matter.

-0-0-

Once the training was over, Poppy went onto the pitch. "That went really well!"

"Definitely!" Madam Hooch said pleased. "I had my doubts, but when I'm working with the students, it just figures itself out."

"It showed," Poppy said. "I think this will be just what you need to speed up your progress. I'm proud of you. I'll head back to the castle, will I see you there?"

"If you could wait a moment, I'll get changed and then we can walk back to the castle together," Madam Hooch suggested.

"Even better."

Poppy waited near the changing rooms. Minerva's comment rang in her head. _You're staring._ She tried to push back the memories of that other time someone had accused her of staring, and succeeded only partially. _This is not the same_, she reminded herself.

She paced up and down and was relieved when Madam Hooch emerged from the changing rooms.

They decided to take a detour around the lake before heading back to the castle.

"So, how do you do it?" Madam Hooch asked.

"Do what?"

"I've been admitted for two weeks in the ward. I've never seen anyone else working shifts but you. It seems you're on call twenty-four seven. Don't you ever get a day off?"

Poppy shrugged. "I usually only have a couple of patients at a time, and most of them aren't very serious or don't need constant care. There is still plenty of time left to do other things."

"But during those weeks that I was admitted, you checked on me almost every other hour. You'd sit by my side to talk to me, reasoned with me when I was being unreasonable, brought me drinks and foods, stayed up with me all night when I had the hallucinations… That must have been though."

"Oh, it was no problem, really. You're a one-of-a-kind patient."

"Still," Madam Hooch persisted. "Are you always at Hogwarts? You never have a day off? And holidays? Do you get holidays?"

Poppy laughed. "Why the sudden interest in my free time?"

This time, Madam Hooch shrugged. "I'm just curious. We've talked so much the past two weeks, and I'll still be here for a while, but we only ever talk about my… addiction." She swallowed. "I still have difficulties calling it that, can you tell?"

Poppy nodded.

"Anyway, I know that it's necessary for my recovery to talk about it, a lot, but I just thought it would be nice to talk about something else for a change. And this was something I had been wondering about. But if you prefer to keep your personal life, well, personal, I respect that."

Poppy contemplated what to do. She did indeed prefer to keep the two things separated. She was very strict about professional boundaries. On the other hand, she didn't want to appear rude. She was involved in Madam Hooch' most personal life, and it felt wrong to keep her completely out of her own. And besides, what harm was there really in telling her what she did in her spare time?

"No, it's okay," she said. "Hogwarts closes in July and August. We as staff use the first week after the students leave, and the first week before they arrive, to finish off some things and prepare for the new school year, but in between that, we have a six-week holiday."

She skipped over a tree root.

"As for days off in between holidays, I don't really have them. I can get mornings off, or afternoons off, depending on the number of patients in my ward. I can visit Hogsmeade occasionally during the school year. I see my relatives mostly during the holidays."

She smiled. "So you see, it really isn't as bad as it may sound. In fact, I think I have more free time now than I had when I was still working at St Mungo's. How about you? You train every day, right? Do you also have days off, or holidays?"

Madam Hooch nodded. "Team trainings are usually in the morning. We practise our flying manoeuvres and try out different tactics. In the afternoon, most of us follow a personal training. We practise the things we have problems with, or we run to get a better condition and to stay fit. The competition is on Saturday. Some of us play for our country in international matches. They are usually on a weekday."

"That sounds like a rather harsh regime."

-0-0-

They had reached a small meadow at the side of the lake. There were wild flowers everywhere: yellow buttercups, white daisies, red poppies… and also a lot of blue cornflowers.

"This is my favourite spot," Poppy said. "I think you can see why. Let's sit down for a bit, shall we, and enjoy the sunshine. Everyone else is inside eating lunch, so it's ever so calm and peaceful." Without waiting for a reply she sat herself down on the grass and turned her face to the sun.

Madam Hooch sat down beside her. "It's indeed beautiful here," she said.

"We get Sundays off," she continued, as though she had never been interrupted. "Although, to be honest, most of us will just use that to get an extra training done. And there are no matches between Christmas and New Year, nor in July or August. So we too have several weeks off in the summer."

"And you? Do you also use your free time to train more?" Poppy asked.

"Now more than I used to. It's… it's hard. To keep up, I mean," Madam Hooch admitted.

She stared into the distance.

"I'm not getting any younger. If I want to keep my place on the team, I need to try harder, need to train more, need to be tougher than anyone else…"

"Need to be more alert during matches than anyone else," Poppy softly completed the enumeration. _So that's why you started using Invigorating Draught_. She had been trying to coax Madam Hooch in telling her how her addiction started, but up until now this had been unsuccessful. She wanted to hold her, tell her she wasn't old at all, but she was unsure how Madam Hooch would take that.

"Yes, that too. Coach Wellington sets very high standards."

Poppy didn't think she'd like the man. As far as she knew, he also still hadn't replied to Madam Hooch' letter, never once informing how she was. Neither had any of her team for that matter, Poppy thought. But she was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt as she didn't know how informed they were on the situation. But the coach really disappointed her.

"That's good, though," Madam Hooch went on. She obviously took the look of disapproval on Poppy's face for disapproval on setting high standards. "We wouldn't have won the competition so often if the coaches didn't expect us to give it our all."

She sat back and closed her eyes, her face to the sun. "Sitting here, I realise that it's also good to pause once in a while and just enjoy the moment, instead of rushing from achievement to achievement." She sighed. "I guess I just need to learn how to do that again."

Poppy glanced sideways at her companion. She was moving on dangerous ground, she knew that. She had been attracted to the other woman almost from the beginning, but that was something she could still rather well hide. _Although, taken Minerva's comment into consideration, she probably wasn't as good at that as she thought she was._

But she realised that in the past few days, since Madam Hooch was no longer admitted in the ward, she had been finding ways to still see her often. She liked spending time with her and talking to her. She was falling for her, she knew. And she couldn't let that happen. Madam Hooch was her patient, she was in a vulnerable position, and there was an inequality of power that made her dependant on Poppy for the time being. _I really ought to respect my professional boundaries,_ Poppy thought. _I won't be able to help her properly if I let my personal interest cloud my judgement_.

"When did you know you wanted to become a Healer?"

The question threw Poppy aback. It was of course a really normal question, but it was posed at a most inopportune moment. The memories stirred by Minerva's comment earlier that morning were still too close to the surface.

"Something happened while I was here," Poppy eventually replied. "Something that made me appreciate the work the matron at the time did and made me decide I wanted to help people like she did.

"Did that have anything to do with what made you loose interest in Quidditch?"

Poppy nodded and didn't look up. She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them.

"I don't know what they did and you don't have to tell me, but they obviously lost out on letting you go." Madam Hooch placed a hand on Poppy's back. "I'm sorry their actions still cause you pain."

The unexpected comforting gesture brought tears to Poppy's eyes.

She suddenly wanted to tell someone what happened, didn't want to keep the secret any longer. She thought no loner about the professional boundaries she had so carefully set for herself. She just wanted someone to _know_.

"Nigel," she choked. "His name was Nigel. I was a fourth year. A bit bleu, inexperienced. He was a seventh year, and very popular. You know the type: athletic, charismatic, good-looking… He could have had anyone, but he picked me. I wasn't actually in love with him, and I did not even find him all that attractive, but everyone else was having dates and relations and I was flattered that someone as popular as he was would even notice me. So I went along, thinking maybe that feeling of being in love that I saw with my friends would just grow on me if put enough effort into it."

"That sounds familiar," Madam Hooch muttered.

Poppy put her arms tighter around her knees. "I went to all of our House trainings. One day, I was extra early. Nigel and I had had a row the day before and I wanted to get on his good side again. I was so early, that one of the other teams was still wrapping up their training. They had a new Keeper and the moment I saw her, I felt something that I had never felt for Nigel, and that I probably never would. I took her in, the way her ponytail danced on her back, how she dived to defend her hoops, the sound she made when she laughed, the curve of her face…" She trailed off. She half-and-half expected Madam Hooch to get up and leave after this description, but she stayed where she was.

"Then our team came in," she continued after a cough. "But I didn't notice it until the other team left. Nigel didn't play well. He kept glancing my way, with a look on his face I did not understand, but which made me feel uncomfortable. I linked it to the row of the day before. Once the training was over, I waited for him, as I had done so often before. He lashed out immediately. Said everyone had seen me staring at the girl. He called me twisted, perverted, a freak of nature...And other things I do not want to repeat."

"That's awful," Madam Hooch whispered. "Didn't anyone stand up to him?"

Poppy shook her head. "He was the popular one, and everyone wanted to be his friend, or more. So they all joined in, hoping for his approval. After a while they left, and I was so relieved to see them go that I wept. But later that day he sought me out. He said that my behaviour reflected badly on him and that people were joking about his capacities if I preferred a girl to him. Said that I had ruined his reputation. He was speaking softly, instead of the yelling he had done before, and I mistook the signs."

"Surely he didn't…" Madam Hooch interjected, catching on quickly. Her face revealed appal.

"He said… he said that he would 'fix my misguided ideas'." Poppy trembled. Although the details of that evening were razor sharp before her mind's eye, it was difficult to put them into words. "I tried to protect my face," she whispered eventually.

Poppy's voice was barely audible now, but she knew the other witch had heard her, for she wrapped her arms around Poppy and pulled her in for a hug.

"You poor dear. That's horrible. I'm so sorry you had to go through that." She held Poppy tight and rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles. The tears Poppy had been fighting back began to fall.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She tried wiping away her tears. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"Don't be sorry," Madam Hooch replied. "Don't you dare apologise. It wasn't your fault, you hear me? You did nothing wrong."

"I shouldn't be burdening you with this." Poppy felt suddenly guilty. _This woman was her patient, and here she was recounting her own problems_. "You have demons of your own to battle."

"That doesn't make your demons less important."

Madam Hooch held her at arm's length and locked eyes with her. "Now you listen to me. You always take care of everyone else. But it's okay to let someone take care of you for a change. And I'm more than happy to do that. Understood?"

Poppy nodded hesitantly,

"Good."

Madam Hooch pulled her in again for another hug. "It's okay to cry," she said gently. She rubbed Poppy's back again. "Just let it out. I'm here for you."

-0-0-

That day marked a change. Even though they still referred to one another as Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey, they were no longer just Healer and patient. Instead they had transgressed into a type of relation that was somewhere between professional and friendship. Poppy was still helping Madam Hooch with her rehabilitation process, but she had also visited her in her quarters two times now just for a cup of tea and a chat. _And this is the most it can be_, Poppy reminded herself sternly time and again. She was already on the edge of what was morally acceptable.

A couple of days later though, a letter arrived that would turn everything around.

* * *

_Dear Poppy,_

_Mukhtar and I were just talking the other day about the patient you wrote about a few weeks ago. We haven't heard from you since, nor do we have a record of a patient with the symptoms that you described. So we figured she recovered. But recent information led us to believe that maybe she didn't. _

_Trisha told me about the books you borrowed from St Mungo's library. Although I hope that that's just a coincidence, it's not that hard too put one and one together and it would explain some of the issues you mentioned in your letters._

_I'm sending you this to alert you that maybe you'll be getting some unwanted attention, as I'm not the only who can add up. You never were discussing a student, were you? I think you ought to inform her, too._

_Sincerely, Juniper_

_P.s. Just out of curiosity: what was your reason for not referring her to St Mungo's?_

* * *

Poppy slowly lowered the letter and fell back in her chair. This was a nightmare. She had been ever so careful not to give away anything that could reveal Madam Hooch' identity, yet obviously Juniper now knew not only who the patient was she had been corresponding about, but had also a pretty good understanding of what it was she was being treated for. And maybe Mukhtar was aware of the situation as well.

Poppy frowned and checked the letter again. _Recent information led us to believe…_ what information was Juniper referring to? Did Juniper speak to anyone? But the only people outside of Hogwarts who knew that Madam Hooch was there, were her coach and maybe her team. And it was unlikely that either of them would have talked to Juniper about it. _But maybe he spoke to journalists…_ It was a stretch, but that was the only thing that made sense. There had been nothing in _The Daily Prophet_, of that she was certain. So, _Quidditch Weekly_ then? She knew one person who subscribed to it and she rushed to Minerva's quarters.

"Minerva, can I borrow your copy of the latest edition of _Quidditch Weekly_?" she asked, out of breath.

Minerva frowned. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm not sure. Do you have it at hand?"

Minerva searched for the magazine and handed it to Poppy. "I haven't had a change to read it yet, but are you looking for anything in particular?"

"There might be something on Madam Hooch," Poppy muttered as she franctically thumbed through the magazine until she came to a page featuring a young man in yellow-and-black. She recognised the colours and something dropped in the pit of her stomach. She scanned the article. The man, she learned, was called Kirk Fitzpatrick, and he had apparently hit a Bludger so hard it had broken. _Fitzpatrick is_ _substituting for Rolanda Hooch, who is still at Hogwarts' hospital wing, recovering from her recent concussion_. _So far, Fitzpatrick has played three flawless matches. _

Poppy didn't read any further.

"I need to tell her," she said to herself. With a heavy heart she got up. She knew she couldn't delay in informing Madam Hooch. She didn't want her to find out via another way. She was afraid she would not take it well. Madam Hooch had come a long way and was nearly recovered, but who knew what she'd do? She could go in relapse, or flee in alcohol. It wasn't uncommon for patients to overcome one addiction only to trade it for another.

"So, what is it between you two?" Minerva said amused.

Poppy stopped in her tracks.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't give me that 'I need to check if she's doing okay' nonsense again, we're both smarter than that. You're obviously head over heels."

After a short moment, Poppy reluctantly said "I _might _have feelings for her, yes. But that's all it can ever be."

"Because she's your patient?"

Poppy nodded. "Yes. It wouldn't be right. There are professional boundaries, and they exist for a reason."

"She won't always be your patient," Minerva pointed out.

"I know," Poppy sighed. "It's just… complicated."

_Please don't ask me to elaborate,_ she thought. _It's difficult enough as it is._

"Because?"

_Of course she wouldn't just let it rest. _Poppy knew Minerva would keep asking questions, so the easiest thing to was to just tell her the truth of the matter.

"Because she's a famous Quidditch player. She has this flashy, interesting life, and I'm just the Hogwarts' Healer. Our lifestyles couldn't be further apart." _I'm afraid she'll think me boring, or mundane. _

"She seems to be enjoying teaching just fine," Minerva observed.

"Yes, for now. Because she knows it's temporary." Poppy sighed again. "But once she's no longer my patient" _which could be any day now,_ Poppy added in her mind, _she really is doing so well she's almost recovered_, "she'll go back to playing in the League. There'll be matches and trainings and events… And I'll still be here at Hogwarts. It'll never work."

"Poppy." Minerva said reproachful. "You're just making assumptions. For all we know, you could just as well be the calm in her stormy life."

"I don't even know if she likes women that way," Poppy muttered. "I mean, she knows I do, and she seems to be okay with that, but that doesn't mean she does to."

"So, what's the worst that could happen?" Minerva enquired. "She might not like women that way. Or she might, but doesn't return your feelings. And then what? Does the world stop turning? Is your life over if she says no?"

"I suppose not," Poppy said reluctantly, though her heart thought differently.

"The only way of knowing for sure how she feels is by asking her."

"Yes, obviously. I just don't know if I'm ready for a rejection yet. It might sound silly, but as long as she doesn't know, I could still hope. But if she says no, then that's the end of it."

Minerva nodded. "I think I understand. Still, if you want to have certainty… And she seems decent enough not to hold it against you if the feeling isn't reciprocated."

That was such a Minerva-way to phrase things, that Poppy smiled.

"Thanks for that Minerva. I really appreciate your advice. I'll just have to figure things out for myself, sooner or later. Either way, it'll have to be after she's discharged from my care." Y_ou'll be going to the Qualifier match with her_, a small voice inside her head said. _Perfect timing._ She willed the voice to shut up.

* * *

_A/N: So I always intended for Rolanda to play for the Wasps. I somehow got my teams mixed up and wrote the Wanderers previously. I fixed this now, but in case you read the previous chapters prior to the change and are wondering about it, this is the reason._


	4. Chapter 4 - Rolanda

Rolanda looked at the paper in front of her. She was compiling a list of things she needed to do in the upcoming weeks. Last week, Albus had offered her a permanent position as Quidditch instructor, not just for the House teams, but for all students. Even though the pay was considerably lower than what she had now, it was still a good offer. Room and board included, as well as all expenses she would make. She'd help shape future generations of Quidditch players. And there might even be a possibility to get her Referee Degree, Albus was still discussing that with the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

After a few days of due consideration, she had told him yesterday that she would gladly accept the offer, on the condition that she could finish the season with the Wasps, a condition that Albus had generously agreed on without asking for her motives. So all seemed settled. But now her mind was racing again.

_Was it a wise decision to accept? Am I really ready to say goodbye to professional Quidditch?_

Her addiction had taught her that soon, her glory days would be over, but still, playing in the League had been her life for so long. She was afraid to fall into a proverbial abyss if she stopped. She was used to being busy, training, all day. What would she do in the moments that she wasn't teaching? Her mind briefly wandered and she entertained thoughts of late night conversations by the fireplace, long walks over the Hogwarts Grounds, stealing kisses in the meadow….

She laughed out loud. "This place has infected you, Rolanda," she mocked herself. "You're acting like a love struck teenager. And it's pathetic. That patient-Healer thing might work great in novels but in reality, it's complicated. Especially at my age…" She sighed. No matter how smitten she was with the Hogwarts Matron, she couldn't neglect the fact that there was a considerable age difference. She doubted Madam Pomfrey could ever feel the same about her, even though they had grown much closer in the past weeks. "You're probably just mistaking her professional kindness for something else." Regardless, she needed to tell her that they were going to be colleagues. She knew Madam Pomfrey would be hurt if she heard it from someone other than Rolanda herself.

"And you're going to tell her how you feel," she told herself sternly. She considered telling her at the Qualifier, or at an after-match-drink, but quickly dismissed this. _If she doesn't reciprocate my feelings, she might feel set up, thinking I planned the whole thing as a date. No, it'll have to be today or tomorrow. That way, she'll have the opportunity to cancel if it makes her in any way feel uncomfortable._

-0-0-

She moved on to the next item on her list.

_Convince Coach to let me Beat NF play in the season finale_

That was a tricky one. She knew she needed to be in excellent shape for him to even consider her, and given her lack of training in the past few weeks this seemed near-impossible. Apart from that, she needed arguments that he couldn't put aside. Wanting to beat a player from the opposing team simply wouldn't cut it.

She conferred with her herself and decided that she would resume training tonight. Flying always made her mind clearer, so perhaps she could think up arguments while she was training.

-0-0-

Next up was _Putting together a curriculum._

She moved that to the bottom of the list. She'd have the whole summer off, so there would be plenty of time to come up with a curriculum for all seven years.

_-0-0-_

_Moving stuff from Bournemouth_

That shouldn't be too complicated either. She knew already what she wanted to relocate to her lodgings at Hogwarts: her old Silver Arrow that had sparked her enthusiasm for flying; her favourite books; her battered old rocking chair that looked like nothing anymore but that was the best seat in the house; the non-moving photograph of her parents' wedding, that her Mum had insisted on being taken, even after learning about the existence of wizarding photographs...

Thinking about her parents, a memory resurfaced.

_You would be great teacher, I know you will. Now, if you would go with me for a day, see for yourself... It's a much steadier job perspective and certainly less dangerous…_ She hadn't wanted to hear it, back when she was a teenager. The risks of professional Quidditch were part of the allurement of the job, as was the freedom she experienced while flying. In the first year of her career, and occasionally in the years thereafter when she had suffered a bigger injury, her Mum had often inquired if she wouldn't rather want a job that didn't involve falling from great heights.

Rolanda chuckled softly. "And look at me now. I guess you were right all along, Mum. I doubt that this was the job you had envisioned for me all those years ago, but I am eventually following in your footsteps. Sort of."

-0-0-

A knock on her door woke Rolanda from her thoughts. Frowning, she went to open, but when she saw that it was Madam Pomfrey at the door, her face broke into a smile and her stomach jolted. _Maybe I get to cross that item of the list sooner than I thought._

"Hi there, I didn't expect you. Please come on in. Would you like some tea?" She shoved the list under some papers as nonchalantly as she could.

Nervously, she scraped her throat. _Well, here goes nothing…_ "You know, it's good that you dropped by. I wanted to tell you something."

Madam Pomfrey coughed. "So have I. I think it might be better if you sit down."

Rolanda's heart sank.

"What? Why? Is anything the matter?"

"Sit down first," Madam Pomfrey insisted.

"Now you're starting to scare me," Rolanda said. "Don't tell me you've discovered a late-occurring but serious withdrawal symptom? I'm feeling so much better these days…" She tried to make a joke of it, but inwardly she braced herself for another message. _Please don't tell me we're never going to work._

"I know. You look good, too. But no, I'm not here about another withdrawal symptom."

Madam Pomfrey handed her a magazine.

Rolanda looked at it quizzically. This was not what she had expected at all. "_Quidditch Weekly_. I don't understand. I thought you didn't follow Quidditch?"

"I don't. I borrowed it. I'll explain later." Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. "Page eleven. I thought you'd want to know straight away what they wrote about you."

Rolanda's throat was suddenly dry. _So they had written something about her in Quidditch Weekly. Had they discovered the real reason for her admission?_ With a heavy heart and a pit in her stomach she thumbed to page eleven. On it was a picture of Kirk Fitzpatrick, one of the upcoming Beaters on her team. The title of the article was 'Fitzpatrick: rising star of the Wasps'.

She quickly scanned the article, her heart hammering in her throat. The first part was about Fitzpatrick having hit a Bludger so hard it broke in two, which, she had to admit, was quite a feat. But then the article mentioned her.

"Fitzpatrick is substituting for Rolanda Hooch, who is still at Hogwarts' hospital wing, recovering from her recent concussion," she read out loud. " So far, Fitzpatrick has played three flawless matches. Hooch was at Hogwarts for a series of Quidditch clinics and took a Bludger to the head about four weeks ago. "At her age, it takes longer to recover from an injury," Coach Wellington stated when asked about her progress. "We hope she'll soon feel better again." Hooch (47) has been on the team since she left Hogwart as a student, and is amongst the oldest players in the competition. Her current injury raises the question whether or not she'll be able to continue in the Basis 7. Rumours have it that Wellington is already preparing Fitzpatrick to take over the position permanently."

She dropped the magazine and fell back in her chair.

"So that's it then," she whispered hoarsely. "I'll be kicked off the team."

She broke into a nervous giggle at the sheer irony of the situation. _Just when I've decided to resign._

"Are you all right, dear?" Madam Pomfrey asked worried. Obviously, Rolanda's reaction unsettled her.

"They won't kick you off because of some article," she tried to reassure her. This person doesn't know what they're talking about. Reporters are always exaggerating. _Drama sells._ I've seen you on the pitch and you'll take back that basis position in no time. "

She said it with such certainty that Rolanda nearly believed her. Nearly. Her giggles turned into sobs and she snorted to hide the tears in her eyes.

"No, they won't kick me of because of an article. But Coach feels the same way. Did you not hear what he said? 'At her age'. He thinks I'm too old. And he clearly has my replacement already at hand," she said bitterly.

"And to think I've given my best years to the Wasps. I've never changed teams, even though there were plenty of offers…" Her voice trailed off. She was genuinely hurt. It was one thing to decide for yourself you would stop, and quite another to be told you were no longer good enough.

Madam Pomfrey put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "I'm so sorry," she said softly. "You don't deserve this. You've worked so hard…"

Rolanda leaned in to the embrace and let those tender and caring arms envelop her. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her own arms around the other woman's waist and pull her in for a kiss. But she still hadn't told her about either her feelings or her career switch, and she couldn't tell her now, not in this situation. So she sat up straight and brushed her off. "Please go," she whispered.

"What? I don't understand. Was it something I said? Or… " A worried look passed over Madam Pomfrey's face.

"No you did nothing wrong. I … I just need some time on my own, to… process this," Rolanda improvised.

"Oh. Oh, eh, okay," Madam Pomfrey said. "Of course if you want to…, I didn't mean to… I… Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I could make you some tea. We don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"Please go away," Rolanda repeated. She didn't dare look into her eyes. She was afraid to do something she'd regret later.

"Well, if you want to be alone, I'll respect that," Madam Pomfrey reluctantly said. "But if you change your mind, you're more than welcome in my quarters. The door is always open."

She stopped in the doorway as if she wanted to say something, turned to walk away, then turned back again. "Don't let them get to you," she said fiercely, "You're amazing, and they would be absolutely stupid if they let you go."

As soon as the door was closed, Rolanda put her head in her hands and groaned. "Way to go, Rolanda. As if it isn't a big enough mess already."

-0-0-

The next morning at the breakfast table, Minerva McGonagall sat down beside her. "Are you alright? You seem a bit pale."

"I've been better," Rolanda admitted. "I hardly slept last night."

"Oh dear, are you ill?"

"No, just a lot on my mind." She sighed at the quizzical look Minerva gave her. "It's complicated. But the bottom line is that I'm getting too old."

"Age is but a number," Minerva replied. "It doesn't determine who you are."

_That's easy for you to say,_ Rolanda thought. She estimated that Minerva was about fifteen years her junior. She didn't voice the thought out loud because she didn't want to appear rude. Instead she said: "Age is the entire reason I'm here." On a whim, she added: "Do you know why I got admitted?"

"I've heard the official version," Minerva replied cautiously.

"But you don't believe one word of it." Rolanda stated with a wry smile.

"I do find it hard to believe that someone with a severe concussion is giving flying instructions, yes."

"I…" Rolanda hesitated for a moment. But Minerva McGonagall had always been kind to her on the occasions that they had spoken to one another, and if they were going to be colleagues, it wouldn't do to start with lies. Rolanda cleared her throat.

"I fear that my age was starting to become a hurdle in my professional career. I had trouble keeping up with starting, younger, players and I… let myself get a bit too accustomed to Invigorating Draught."

"I see," Minerva said neutrally after a short pause.

"I told myself it was a temporarily thing and that if I just trained enough, I could still compete with players not even half my age."

She laughed drily. "Off course, Madam Pomfrey noticed that something was off about me. If it wasn't for her, I don't know where I would be now. She's been a tremendous help in tackling my problem. But yesterday…" she sighed. "Have you read the latest _Quidditch Weekly_?"

"Not yet."

"It raised the question whether or not I'm fit to return to the team. Because I'm getting too old," she blurted out.

"I see," Minerva said again. "So that's what you've been mulling over all night?"

"Yes. I want to finish the season but I don't know how I'll convince the coach to let me play, certainly not after that article."

"The season is almost over, surely it's better to use the summer to regain your form and start afresh next season?"

"Well… I won't be playing anymore next season." I shouldn't have said that.

"You won't?" Minerva asked surprised.

Rolanda shook her head. There was no turning back now. "Albus offered me a permanent position and I've accepted."

"Oh that's great! Congratulations!"

"Thank you. I'm looking forward to it."

"Then why do you so desperately want to play those three games that are left in the season?"

Rolanda sighed again. "I had hoped to finish my career on my own terms. I don't want this… problem… to be what people will remember me by."

"I don't think that'll be the case. You hit a Bludger out of the station of the Bats in your first season. You secured the Wasps' 1962 victory over the Kestrels by knocking out their Seeker. You won Best Beater in the League 5 times in a row. Your Backbeat in the '66 match against the Harpies was one of the best I've ever seen."

Minerva paused. Slightly embarrassed she said "You've probably already been told that Quidditch is a passion of mine."

Rolanda grinned. "Indeed, though I have to admit I didn't know the extent of it." She was touched by Minerva's words and she suddenly had a fair idea of where the copy of _Quidditch Weekly_ had come from.

"My point is, those are the things that matter," Minerva continued. "That's what people will remember from your career. Ignore the article. Those people will always find something to criticise. It's what they're paid for. As long as you're happy with your decision, that's what counts."

"Hm," Rolanda hummed non-committedly.

"Is there another reason?"

"No, I just want to end my career with winning the Cup."

Honesty had its limits. She couldn't tell Minerva the other reason. Not without revealing Madam Pomfrey's secret, and she had promised that she would not do that.

"Listen, don't tell anyone just yet, will you?" she said hurriedly. "There are some people I want to inform myself before word gets out."

"My lips are sealed," Minerva replied.

Rolanda glanced in the direction of the other end of the table, where Madam Pomfrey was seated. She looked like she hadn't slept much, either. _You've been rude yesterday, Rolanda._ Rolanda decided she would apologise after breakfast.

"Isn't it about time that you tell her how you feel?" Minerva asked and inclined her head towards Madam Pomfrey.

The blunt question caught Rolanda off guard.

She felt her cheeks go red. "I-I don't know what you're talking about…"

Minerva chuckled. "Oh come on. The tension between you two is so thick I can almost cut it with a knife."

Rolanda didn't know how to respond to that. "I… she…" _Could it be true?_

"Well, what business is it of mine, anyway?" Minerva said briskly and stood up. "I'll see you around, colleague."

Just before she left, Rolanda could have sworn she heard Minerva mutter under her breath "Like I said, age is but a number." But perhaps that was just her imagination.

-0-0-

As students and staff cleared out of the Great Hall, Rolanda rushed to catch up with Madam Pomfrey. A flock of students made that rather difficult. Frustrated, she called out, "Madam Pomfrey, could I speak to you for a moment?"

Madam Pomfrey stopped in her tracks and turned, a nearby student nearly bumping into her.

_I should've just waited until she was in the Hospital Wing,_ Rolanda realised belatedly. But walking away would be really awkward. So she walked on until she reached Madam Pomfrey.

"What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour yesterday."

"It's okay, I understand, it must be a lot to take in."

"No, I mean it. I was rude and I apologise. It was good of you to bring me _Quidditch Weekly_. You were right that I wouldn't have wanted to hear about it through the grapevine."

"Apology accepted," Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Are you feeling better now that you've had time to process things?"

"I am, in fact."

"I'm glad to hear that. Say, I remember you wanted to tell me something yesterday, but we never got around to it."

Madam Pomfrey looked expectantly at her.

_Just get it of your chest now,_ a voice inside Rolanda's head said. _There will never be a perfect moment._ She swallowed the lump in her throat and said in one breath:

"Yes. I wanted to tell you something, or two things actually and they aren't really connected even though they are in a way and I don't want things to be weird and no matter your reaction I've made my decision and…"

"Calm down, calm down," Madam Pomfrey laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. "You're rambling."

_Yes I am. Oh Merlin._ Rolanda took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"There are two things I want to tell you," she repeated, slower now.

"Yes, and they aren't connected but at the same time they are," Madam Pomfrey said, amused. "I got that much."

"Right. Well, the first thing is that I accepted a job offer. As of September I'm to be the Quidditch instructor at Hogwarts."

"Oh congratulations!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed and hugged her. "I didn't know you had aspirations in that direction, but I've seen you at work and I know you'll be excellent for the job." Then she held her at arms' length and frowned. "But what about your Quidditch career?"

"I'm giving that up," Rolanda admitted. "If the past weeks have taught me anything, it is that I can't continue the way I did. I'll just have to accept that my glory days are over."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the article in Quidditch Weekly I hope? Because if that's the case… you should just let them talk."

Rolanda shook her head. "No, even though it was very unpleasant reading that they think of me that way, I already accepted the offer the day before yesterday. Though I have to admit, that basically being told off is far from the same as quitting."

"So, we'll be colleagues next year." Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Who would have thought it when you entered my ward not even two months ago. What was the other thing you wanted to tell me?"

"Before I tell you, I want you to know that whatever your response, I'll still take the job."

"Okay, now you have me curious…"

Rolanda took another deep breath. _Here goes nothing,_ she thought.

"The thing is, there is another reason I want to stay. I… I met this woman. With hair the colour of autumn leaves and eyes like cornflowers. I grew really fond of her and at one point fell in love… I'm just not sure I'm not mistaking kindness and caring for something more than what it is."

Good heavens Rolanda, stop speaking to her in third person.

She saw comprehension dawning in Madam Pomfrey's eyes.

"Do you mean…"

Rolanda nodded shyly. "Yes. I fancy you. A lot. I can't stop thinking about you and despite my obvious problems, the past few weeks have been the best I've ever had. Now, I know I'm considerably older and I would understand if you don't feel the same way…"

Madam Pomfrey pressed a finger to her lips. "Wait right here," she said. "Don't move!"

She hurried into the Hospital Wing, leaving Rolanda confused and insecure.

_She didn't react… You're such an idiot Rolanda. You scared her off._

Before she had time to analyse it further, Madam Pomfrey returned holding a scroll, that she gave to Rolanda.

"What is this?''

"This is your discharge scroll. I realised yesterday that it was time for you to be released from the Hospital Wing and that I was holding you back for the wrong reasons. I intended to give it to you this afternoon, but given recent events…"

"I don't understand," Rolanda began, bewildered.

"You don't?" Madam Pomfrey smiled warmly. "It means that you are no longer my patient. And _that_ means that I'm no longer breaking any rules when I do this."

She stood on tiptoes and kissed Rolanda, tender and passionate at the same time. It was everything Rolanda had dreamt off and more. Rolanda wrapped her arms around her and kissed her back.

Around them, students erupted in cheers and hooting and they broke apart, slightly embarrassed as they rested their foreheads against each other.

"Yeah, well, maybe it wasn't such a good idea to declare my love in the middle of a crowded corridor," Rolanda muttered with a sheepish grin.

"Maybe not, but I'm just glad you told me, no matter the surroundings, Rolanda."

"So, are we finally on a first name basis now?" Rolanda grinned.

"Well, I can't bloody well call you 'Madam Hooch' every time we kiss, right?"

"No, that would seem rather peculiar indeed, Poppy," Rolanda happily conceded. She liked the way the name rolled off her tongue.

"Let's take this conversation somewhere with a bit more privacy, shall we?" she whispered.

As they entered the Hospital Wing, Rolanda realised that she hadn't been this happy in a really long time.

* * *

_A/N: So sorry I took forever to write this chapter. Covid-19 broke down my writing time, as I usually wrote while commuting to and from work. And then got a bit of a writer's block. But I'm finally happy with the flow of the chapter. A couple of remarks on ages in this story, as I've received some questions about this:_

_\- In this story, Rolanda is 47, as you've been able to read in the Quidditch Weekly article. Little is known about her canonically. Online sources state that she was born around 1900 and that she had a broom wrecked in the "Great War", this being our WW1. However, the only source for this is a Harry Potter based videogame, which I don't consider canon. As it would also mean that she'd be about 100 years old when Harry&Co were attending, to me it doesn't seem likely that she would still be so actively sportive at that time. (I know Dumbledore was battling Inferi at a very high age, but he always struck me as an exception and he certainly wasn't flying a broom constantly.) So I decided to make Rolanda younger. Also because it fitted my story better to don't have her differ that much with Poppy. _

_\- Poppy's birthyear also isn't known. Online it is stated as 1942, with a birthdate that "coincidentally" is the exact same date as Gemma Jones. It would seem that someone took Gemma's birthday and made that Poppy's birthday as well. This also isn't canonical off course, but it suited me so I kept the year. This story takes place in 1970, so Poppy is 28 here. I imagined her having trained under Juniper's guidance at St Mungo's a couple of years, and that this is the first year she's responsible for a ward of her own. She still often confers with Juniper when she's unsure about a patient._


End file.
